The Cold War
by SalvaVeritate
Summary: I look for her in between lines, in between rants and curses and misogynistic paragraphs and drawings.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Happy holidays, everyone! A very nice reader went through the trouble of sending me a PM, asking if I was going to write here again. I wanted to give her a Christmas gift of sorts. Marissa Davis, this one's for you. It's a very short story but I will do my very best to finish it. Sorry for the short first chapter. I'm not used to this anymore.

For everyone else, I know it's been ages since I last wrote here so I'm still in the process of relearning my CI KS-shippery. I will try my very best and I hope I don't disappoint anyone. (Apologies if I do)

* * *

**One**

_And so it is._

-From 'The Blower's Daughter" by Damien Rice

I look for her in between lines, in between rants and curses and misogynistic paragraphs and drawings. In each pen stroke, she is there. For every praise I have for a conquest, a part of it is for Kathryn, for every insult, the same thing. Thumbing through the pages, my fingers run over the dried ink like I am trying to read Braille. In fact, I am still trying to find her, convinced that she is nestled in the spaces. This is how I touch her now, how I see her. This is the only way I can stomach her.

Just as I snap out of my reverie, the door opens. She is there. Day twenty-three of this cold war. I close my journal, my fingertips warm from the memory of her skin. The mood is gone, replaced by the anger. I can stand Memory Kathryn, but not the real thing.

"I was shopping when I saw this," she places something on the table and walks towards me. Her tone is assured but the sound of her steps betrays her. There is a long pause before each click, each clack of her heels. "It's by your favorite author. I thought you might like to have it."

I turn away from her and fix myself a drink.

"Valmont, I'm trying," she tells me.

I examine my glass.

"Even etiquette demands that you at least acknowledge this attempt, surely you're aware of that."

I finish my drink.

"Goddamn you," she hisses. "Goddamn you to hell."

The clacking of her heels is fast now. She slams the door. The sound seems to echo far longer than it should.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

_There should be just one safe place__  
in the world, I mean__  
this world. People get hurt here. People fall down and stay down and I don't like  
the way the song goes._

_-Richard Siken_

Cassidy Merteuil is seated in front of me.

When she had been younger, I remember her following Kathryn everywhere. Having only been 5 years older, my former better half would always sigh and bitch about how annoying it was to have some wannabe trailing after her.

"She's not even that pretty," Kathryn whined as we watched her 12 year old cousin wave at us excitedly. "And oh god, what is with that backpack?"

"Kathryn, she looks exactly like you," I replied, smiling. "In fact, she actually looks better than you did at 12. You had an abnormally large set of teeth back then, with that weird gap in the middle. And regarding that backpack of hers, need I remind you that you went through a pink plastic backpack phase of your own because 'it was what all the cool girls were into?"

She shot me a dirty look, those green eyes of hers narrowing in a way that would have scared the normal spineless moron she'd been so used to dealing with. The effect it had on me, however, was something entirely different. The way those eyes narrowed reminded me of blankets and beds and pillows and flushed cheeks and naked bodies. Of course, I couldn't let her see what her expression was doing to me so I tried my best to appear indifferent.

We were standing inside Barneys, waiting for Cassidy to pay for her clothes. We had both been warned by our parents, who, in a rare moment of solidarity, told us that if we didn't spend time with cousin Cassidy that day, they would freeze our bank accounts for an entire month. This affected Kathryn more than it affected me, and so by association, I had to comply.

"Remind me again why I'm sleeping with you," she muttered.

"I'm handsome, wealthy, and great in bed."

"So is my boyfriend," she retorted, rolling her eyes. "He's actually better looking, too."

"Your 'boyfriend' is banging Blaine Tuttle."

"He is not!"

I debated whether or not I should continue messing with her, but decided against it.

"You look beautiful today, sis." I said, choosing a different approach.

"If you think this is going to get you laid tonight, you're mistaken."

"I'm serious," I answered softly. "You do, regardless of whether or not I get laid tonight."

She glanced at me, surprised. If you knew her as I did, you'd know that she has an expression that she only uses when we're together. Her smile is warmer, her eyes more affectionate. Kathryn. Mine.

"Kiss me," she said.

"Here? Now?"

"Wait," she grabbed my hand and we zigzagged through the shelves and aisles. She walked so fast I had trouble keeping up. Finally, we reached a secluded part of the store, and she turned to look at me.

"Now," she said softly, her fingers slowly slipping away from mine.

I smiled at her, holding her face, trying to preserve that particular expression that she had, the one where she made me feel like I was the only person there, that I was the best person in the entire fucking world.

"You are such a pussy," she remarked, as if reading my mind.

"Shut up," I said, kissing her. Softly at first, but then it began to evolve. I felt that familiar heat of passion, the rush of blood in my head (and one particular place that Kathryn knew very well by now). Her mouth was so familiar, so soft. I could get used to this. Fuck it. I wanted to get used to this.

"Kathryn?"

We heard Cassidy's voice and quickly pulled away. Kathryn's face was flushed, her lipstick smeared.

"You'll get me in trouble someday," she teased, taking out her compact to reapply her lipstick.

"I've always gotten you in trouble. You like it,"

"Maybe I just like you." She replied, still smiling as she wiped her lipstick off my mouth.

Cassidy's lipstick is the exact shade of red. I watch her now as she talks, shaking my head slightly. The scene at Barneys fades in my head, bringing me back. Cassidy is now 18, a senior at Manchester Prep. No longer the simpering, adoring little girl she had been back then, the resemblance to Kathryn has become more pronounced. Watching her is like watching a younger Kathryn talk. She even has that superior, condescending tone down.

"…so I told Jason, the only way he was ever going to win was if I let him, and of course, like I'd ever let that happen. I have too much fun making him look like a moron anyway." She laughs, and for some reason, I can't help but smile back.

"Well, you certainly look like you're having fun." Kathryn's voice cuts in. Before my mind could process it, my heart jumps at her voice. Cassidy's eyes brighten as she sees her cousin, and even though I know she would never admit it, Kathryn is actually quite fond of Cassidy.

"Kathryn! I was just telling Sebastian all about Jason," Cassidy says, grinning.

"Oh? And how is the douchebag doing these days? Kathryn replies, sitting down. She glances at me but I ignore her, trying to keep Cassidy from noticing the tension between us.

"Ask him yourself," Cassidy's grin is so big, so achingly familiar, that I have to look away. It is the same smile Kathryn had when we were in high school. "He's here."

Kathryn and I watch as Cassidy kisses Jason, and it is so surreal because for a very brief moment it is like watching ourselves when we were younger. They excuse themselves when they see their friends at another table, leaving us there. We watch them socializing and laughing like the perfect goddamn couple that they were. It makes me sick. As if on autopilot, I remember so many things about how Kathryn and I had been then. The laughter, the way her hair felt when it brushed against my skin, how it felt touching her, holding her, being inside of her.

"You see it too, don't you?" Kathryn's voice rouses me. Her hand touches mine briefly. It is the smallest of gestures, but it makes me catch my breath. I struggle to ignore her, to keep up appearances. Over the years I had grown fond of Cassidy as well, which had been the only reason why I agreed to have lunch with her in the first place.

"Yes,"

"We weren't as nauseating though." Kathryn comments, taking advantage of my compliance.

"I'd imagine so."

"I made a mistake, Sebastian. You of all people should understand."

"Yes, well." I shrug. "That's all over now, isn't it? It's fine."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." I reply.

"I don't believe you."

That tone. Slow, soft, slightly seductive, and yet I know this time she wouldn't try and use sex to get my attention. Somehow that draws me in more, and it's like I can't stop myself. I turn, finally looking into her eyes. Green, with flecks of gold when the light hit it just right. Her hair was longer since high school, and while she had been gorgeous then, she was even more beautiful now. At twenty three, she is a rising star in her father's conglomerate. She tackled her career the way she did everything else. She was driven, relentless, and she always got what she wanted. Her success made her sharper, more confident, emanating a certain kind of power that made people pay attention.

"And why is that, Kathryn?"

We hold each other's gaze. I want to grab her and hit her and touch her and fuck the shit out of her. I want to rip that mouth off her face, because it was that mouth that seduced me, that made me fall in love with her. It was that mouth that weakened me, too. Goddamn Kathryn Merteuil.

"With us, Seb, it is never 'Just like that.'." Kathryn says, knowing all too well that this was one of the rare instances I allowed myself to be in the same room as her. "Don't you think I've tried to let it go?"

Her remark cuts through me, refueling the hatred that had been there since I found out what she'd done.

"We were happy," I answer. "I wish you never told me."

She doesn't reply.

Jason and Cassidy return to our table, regaling us with stories about Manchester Prep.

I barely hear them.


End file.
